V \ V) 


"1 


\ 3 A.*-. 


,2^2 


A 


DISCOURSE 


PREACHED  IN  THE 

CENTER  CHURCH,  IN  NEW  HAVEN,  AUGUST  27,  1828, 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF 


JEHUDI  ASHMUN,  ESQ. 

COLONIAL  AGENT 

OF  THE 

AMERICAN  COLONY  OF  LIBERIA. 


BY  LEONARD  BACON. 


WITH  THE  ADDRESS  AT  THE  GRAVE ; 

BY  R.  R.  GURLEY. 


NEW  HAVEN: 

PRINTED  BY  HEZEKIAH  HOWE. 


1828, 


J 

' 


SERMON,  &c. 


Matthew  xxvi,  8. 

To  what  purpose  is  this  waste? 

That  incident  in  the  life  of  our  Saviour,  from  the  narra- 
tive of  which  these  words  are  taken,*  affords  us  a beautiful 
lesson.  As  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the  house  of  one  of  his 
friends,  Mary,  the  sister  of  Lazarus,  came  with  an  alabaster 
box  of  precious  ointment,  and  anointed  his  feet  and  wiped 
them  with  her  hair,  and  brake  the  box,  and  poured  the  oint- 
ment on  his  head,  so  that  the  house  was  filled  with  the  odor 
of  the  ointment.  And  there  were  some  who  had  indigna- 
tion among  themselves,  and  said,  To  what  purpose  is  this 
waste  ; for  this  ointment  might  have  been  sold  for  much  and 
given  to  the  poor.  And  they  murmured  against  her.  But 
Jesus  said,  Let  her  alone ; why  trouble  ye  the  woman  ? For 
she  hath  wrought  a good  work  upon  me.  Verily  I say  unto 
you,  Wheresoever  this  gospel  shall  be  preached  in  the  whole 
world,  there  shall  also  this,  that  this  woman  hath  done,  be 
told  for  a memorial  of  her. 

The  objector  in  this  case  was  Judas  Iscariot.  His  narrow 
mind  looked  only  at  the  expense  of  Mary’s  costly  offering; — 
and  why  was  all  this  waste  ? The  objection  was  plausible  ; 
to  some,  at  least,  of  the  disciples  it  seemed  valid.  Why  did 
our  Lord  condemn  the  objection  ? Why  did  he  speak  of 


Compare  Matthew  xxvi,  6 — 13  ; Mark  xiv,  3 — 9 ; and  John  xii.  I — 8. 


4 


this  costly  expression  of  affection  in  terms  of  so  decided 
praise  ? It  was  because  he  knew  and  appreciated  the  ob- 
ject of  the  sacrifice.  The  expense,  the  cost,  was  all  which 
the  mind  of  the  objector  fastened  on  ; but  the  mind  of  Jesus 
saw,  and  his  feelings  honored,  the  end  for  which  the  expen- 
diture was  made.  He  saw  that  this  profusion  was  in  Mary, 
simply  the  expressive  exhibition  of  her  warm  attachment  to 
her  Lord,  the  indulgence  of  her  humble  thankfulness  toward 
the  benefactor  who  at  her  solicitation,  in  answer  to  her  faith, 
had  recalled  her  brother  from  the  imprisonment  of  death 
and  the  decay  of  the  sepulchre.  Therefore  it  was  that  he 
rebuked  those  who  would  condemn  her  for  extravagance, 
and  commended  that  deep  and  disinterested  love  which 
prompted  an  offering  so  costly. 

Now  the  lesson  which  this  incident  affords  us,  is,  that  the 
spirit  of  Christian  piety,  so  far  from  discouraging,  approves 
the  expression,  even  the  costly  expression  of  every  disinter- 
ested, generous,  affectionate  feeling.  If  the  feeling  is  ra- 
tional in  itself,  if  the  expression  of  the  feeling  is  appropriate 
and  natural,  if  the  indulgence  of  it  is  not  inordinate,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  spirit  of  Christian  piety  to  prompt  the  mur- 
muring enquiry,  “To  what  purpose  is  this  waste?”  Chris- 
tians need  not  be  Stoics.  Our  Lord  would  not  obliterate 
the  fine  and  tender  sensibilities  offour  nature,  nor  would  he 
have  us  check  their  free  indulgence.  He  would  indeed  have 
every  thought  and  desire  brought  into  captivity  to  the  obedi- 
ence of  his  gospel.  He  would  indeed  have  love  to  God  and 
love  to  man,  in  every  soul,  the  deepest  and  most  controlling 
principles  of  action.  But  at  the  same  time  he  would  give 
its  due  place,  and  allow  its  proper  indulgence  and  natural 
expression  to  every  tender,  or  noble,  or  disinterested  feeling. 
So  beautiful,  even  in  its  incidental  bearings,  is  that  religion 
which  breathes  peace  and  good  will  to  man,  which  recon- 
ciles the  sinner  to  his  God,  and  which  promises  to  renovate 
the  aspect  of  this  miserable  world. 


I have  chosen  the  text  however,  not  for  the  sake  of  dis- 
coursing on  the  particular  incident  in  connection  with 
which  it  is  spoken  ; or  for  the  sake  of  showing  that  he  who 
commended  Mary’s  ardent  gratitude,  who  had  himself  wept 
at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  and  who  still  feels  for  our  infirmi- 
ties, will  not  forbid  our  tears  at  such  a time  as  this ; but 
rather  because  the  words  suggest  a topic  of  reflection  which 
seems  more  especially  consistent  with  the  proprieties  of  this 
occasion.  The  man  whose  remains  are  before  us,  has  died 
a victim  to  his  labors  and  privations  and  afllictions  under 
the  burning  sun  of  Africa.  During  the  few  days  which  he 
has  spent  among  us,  he  has  won  the  affection  and  venera- 
tion of  all  who  have  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  his  noble 
qualities.  And  if  we  were  to  speak  his  eulogy  on  this  occa- 
sion— as  well  we  might — it  would  probably  excite  in  some 
minds  not  familiar  with  the  exalted  end  for  which  he  labored 
unto  death,  the  complaint,  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ? 
Why  is  it  that  such  a man  who  might  have  been  useful  here 
at  home  ; who  might  have  labored  successfully  in  the  routine 
of  a profession  ; who  might  have  risen  to  wealth,  or  to  some 
high  and  honorable  station,  in  his  native  land  ; whose  mind, 
gifted  as  it  was  with  vigorous  intellect,  might  have  enlarged 
the  boundaries  of  science ; whose  lips,  rich  as  they  were 
with  the  power  of  expression,  might  have  been  eloquent  at 
the  bar,  or  in  the  halls  oflegislation,  or  in  the  house  of  God  ; 
— Why  is  it  that  such  a man  has  toiled  and  suffered  under 
the  uncongenial  climate  of  the  tropics,  and  has  fallen  in  the 
vigor  of  his  maturity  a martyr  to  his  zeal  ? How  can  it  be 
right  for  good  and  valuable  men  thus  to  squander  their  own 
lives  ? 

Such  a feeling,  if  it  exists  in  any  mind,  it  is  my  wish  to 
meet,  and  if  possible  to  remove.  When  a man  like  him 
whose  spirit  has  now  gone  to  his  reward,  is  taken  from  the 
world,  the  loss  is  great.  When  such  a life  is  sacrificed  in 
the  advancement  of  whatever  undertaking,  it  is  a great  ex- 


0 


penditure.  Bat  is  it  true  that  life  is  never  to  be  hazarded  ? 
Is  it  true  that  valuable  lives  are  never  to  be  sacrificed?  Must 
every  undertaking,  however  vast  or  noble,  be  given  over,  as 
soon  as  it  is  found  that  lives  must  be  lost  for  the  attainment 
of  the  object  ? Will  you  say  that  because  Andrus,  and  Ses- 
sions, and  Holton  and  Ashmun  have  given  up  their  lives  for 
Africa,  therefore  the  enterprise  in  which  such  men  have 
died  must  be  abandoned,  and  Africa  must  be  left  to  be  the 
abode  of  ignorance,  and  cruelty,  and  misery,  till  the  world 
shall  end  ? Will  you  say  that  because  Heber  and  Middleton, 
because  our  own  Hall  and  Newel  have  perished  from  their 
labors  in  the  midst  of  life,  beneath  the  sultry  sky  of  India; — 
will  you  say  that  because  Martyn’s  career  was  brief  as  it  was 
bright,  and  because  our  Parsons  and  Fiske  lay  down  in  their 
prime  to  sleep  among  the  sepulchres  of  the  prophets,  and 
because  every  missionary  who  goes  into  a heathen  land  goes  to 
peril,  and  too  probably,  to  an  early  grave; — will  you  argue  that 
therefore  the  thick  gloom  of  paganism  must  rest  upon  the 
world  forever,  without  another  effort  to  let  in  the  blessed 
light  of  heaven  ? Do  you  tell  us,  It  is  wrong  that  lives  so  val- 
uable should  be  thus  thrown  away  ? Do  you  ask  us,  To  what 
purpose  is  this  waste  ? 

Look  now  at  this  principle  of  yours.  It  is  just  the  princi- 
ple that  every  cause  in  which  valuable  lives  are  lost  must 
be  abandoned.  And  what  a principle  is  this.  How  many 
valuable  lives  have  been  lost  in  the  cause  of  liberty  ? How 
many  and  how  venerated  are  the  names  of  patriots  who 
have  hazarded  their  lives  and  lost  them  for  the  deliver- 
ance of  their  country?  Have  these  lives  been  squandered? 
How  often  has  a barrier  of  living  men  turned  back  from 
some  threatened  land  the  terrors  of  invasion.  Thousands 
perished  in  the  conflict,  all  valuable  to  their  country ; and 
each  in  his  own  circle  the  object  of  intense  interest,  as  a 
husband,  or  a father,  or  a brother,  or  a son.  Place  yourself 
on  some  such  battle-field  of  freedom ; think  for  what  the 


blood  of  patriots  was  there  poured  forth  like  water ; think 
of  ten  thousand  homes  preserved  from  violation  and  from 
flames  ; think  of  the  peace  and  industry,  the  intelligence  and 
happiness  which  follow  in  the  train  of  freedom  ; and  will 
yOU — with  the  results  as  well  as  the  expense  before  you — 
can  you  say  that  all  those  lives  were  wasted  ? Who  can  con- 
tradict that  universal  feeling  of  mankind  which  leads  them  to 
embalm  the  memory  of  such  a conflict ; and  which  makes 
the  names  of  fallen  patriots  a watch-word  and  a treasure  for 
their  country  ? Who  will  say  that  our  fathers  of  the  revolu- 
tion, w hen  Warren  had  fallen  on  the  heights  of  Charlestown, 
and  Montgomery  had  perished  at  Quebec,  ought  to  have 
folded  their  arms,  and  abandoned  their  cause,  and  submit- 
ted to  the  claims  they  had  begun  to  resist,  because  valuable 
lives  were  sacrificed  ? Yet  this  you  must  say,  if  you  will  be 
consistent. 

How  many  valuable  lives  wrere  sacrificed  in  the  enterprise 
of  planting  the  colonies  which  have  grow  n up  into  this  great 
republic  ? Ought  the  Puritans  to  have  given  over  their  un- 
dertaking in  despair  as  soon  as  it  was  seen  that  lives  must 
be  lost  in  colonizing  the  inhospitable  wilderness  ? Recal  to 
your  memory  that  first,  long,  perilous  winter.  Place  yourself 
in  thought  on  the  rock  of  Plymouth.  Look  round  on  the 
snowr-clad  hills,  and  see  the  one  hundred  wretched  exiles 
planting  themselves  there  without  a shelter  from  the  storms 
and  cold,  and  w’ith  nothing  to  sustain  them  but  their  hope  in 
God  ; see  them  perishing  by  famine  and  exposure  and  dis- 
ease ; and  then,  when  half  their  number  are  in  their  graves, 
and  those  very  graves  are  carefully  hidden  that  they  may 
hide  their  grow  ing  weakness  from  the  enemies  that  roam  the 
wilderness  around  them — then  ask  them,  To  what  purpose 
is  this  w^aste?  Tell  them,  You  are  squandering  your  valua- 
ble lives,  your  enterprise  is  full  of  peril,  and  must  be  aban- 
doned ; for  will  you  think  of  building  here  the  altars  of  your 
faith,  at  such  expense  as  this  ? Tell  them,  Back,  go  back  to 


8 


England  ; be  submissive  to  her  hierarchy  and  her  king ; bow 
down  like  Issachar  between  your  burthens ; bear  as  meekly 
as  you  can  the  yoke  from  which  you  have  so  rashly  and  so 
vainly  fled  ; and  leave  this  wilderness  to  be  a wilderness 
forever.  This  should  be  your  counsel  in  such  an  emergency, 
if  you  will  be  consistent.  But,  blessed  be  God,  they  took 
not  counsel  of  such  counsellors  as  you.  While  their  number 
was  dwindling  away  so  rapidly,  and  each  expected  to  be 
buried  in  some  secret  grave  to-morrow,  they  never  thought 
of  asking  the  desponding  question,  To  what  purpose  ? Suf- 
ferings they  could  endure;  death  they  could  bear  ; but  the 
end  they  were  pursuing  they  could  not  relinquish.  They 
valued  their  enterprise  too  highly  to  count  their  own  lives 
dear  in  the  comparison.  Pursuing  such  an  end,  they  held 
all  things  else  in  little  estimation,  and  encountered  death  as 
being  far,  far  better  than  despair.  Hundreds  on  hundreds 
died  by  disease  and  privation  and  war,  in  the  attempt  to  col- 
onize New-England.  Ask  you,  To  what  purpose  was  this 
waste  ? Say  you  that  this  was  wrong  ? — that  those  lives 
were  thrown  away  ? Look  over  our  green  hills  and  quiet 
vales ; mark  that  rich  aspect  of  peace  and  happiness  and 
virtue  that  overspreads  the  land  ; listen  to  the  sounds  of  in- 
dustry and  commerce ; above  all,  hark  to  the  music  of  our 
sabbath  bells  as  their  thousand  notes  go  up  mingling  in  the 
air  of  heaven ; and  say,  if  you  can,  that  those  lives  were 
thrown  away,  and  that  because  the  enterprise  was  full  of 
peril  and  of  death,  it  should  have  been  abandoned. 

In  other  words,  it  is  a mistake  to  suppose  that  there  are 
not  some  objects  for  the  attainment  of  which  men  may  sac- 
rifice their  lives,  and  at  the  same  time  deserve  on  that  very 
account  our  highest  veneration.  He  whose  mind  fastens 
only  on  the  expense,  may  think  that  the  expense  is  wasted ; 
and  till  his  mind  can  understand,  and  his  heart  appreciate, 
the  end  for  which  the  expenditure  is  made  ; he  will  deem 
the  sacrifice  extravagant.  But  so  thought  not  Paul  and  the 


9 

goodly  company  of  the  Apostles,  when,  in  obedience  to  the 
“ heavenly  visit  n,”  they  gave  themselves  to  toils  and  suffer- 
ings, and  counted  not  their  own  lives  dear  unto  themselves, 
and  died  to  propagate  the  gospel  of  their  Lord.  So  thought 
not  the  noble  army  of  the  martyrs,  whose  blood  has  been 
shed, 

“ Ih  confirmation  of  the  noblest  claim, 

Our  claim  to  feetl  upon  immortal  truth, 

To  walk  with  God,  to  be  divinely  free. 

To  soar,  aud  to  anticipate  the  skies.” 

So  thought  not  he  who  is  our  perfect  example  as  well  as 
our  Redeemer, — he  who  said.  Whosoever  will  save  his  life 
shall  lose  it,  and  whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for  my  sake  shall 
find  it, — he  who  died  on  Calvary,  suspended  between  the 
earth  and  heavens  a spectacle  of  suffering  and  death  to  men 
and  angels.  He  might  have  held  back  from  the  suffering  of 
death ; but  he  had  seen  the  ruin  of  a world,  and  he  most 
freely  died  for  its  deliverance.  His  life  was  sacrificed — and  to 
what  purpose  ! The  anthems  of  eternity  are  telling  to  what 
purpose.  On  that  theme  the  harps  of  angels  are  laboring. 
And  that  theme^-the  purpose  for  which  the  Son  of  God  was 
made  a sacrifice — will  forever  swell  in  grandeur  till  the  ages 
of  eternity  are  numbered. 

Our  departed  friend  has  died  a victim  to  his  labors  and 
sufferings  in  the  cause  of  benevolence.  Several  years  ago, 
after  having  watched  for  some  time  with  an  active  and  grow- 
ing interest,  the  progress  of  the  measures  which  had  been 
commenced  to  relieve  this  nation  from  the  pressure  of  a 
deadly  evil,  and  to  bestow  on  Africa  the  blessedness  of  free- 
dom  and  religion,  he  gave  himself  to  the  work  in  which  he 
has  now  died.  He  reached  the  field  of  his  labors,  at  a time* 


* August,  1822. 
o 


10 


when  the  Colonists  had  just  been  removed  from  the  unfortu- 
nate location  to  which  treachery  had  at  first  conducted  them, 
and  were  taking  possession  of  the  newly  purchased  territory 
of  Liberia.  He  found  the  few  colonists  alone,  not  a single 
white  man  there,  the  only  surviving  Agent  having  just  before 
embarked  in  ill  health  for  the  United  States.  He  found  them 
almost  without  houses  to  protect  themselves  from  the  rains 
of  their  inclement  season,  which  was  then  at  its  height,  much 
less  able  to  afford  shelter  for  the  new  emigrants  who  had 
accompanied  him.  He  found  the  establishment  just  ready 
to  sink  in  disorder  and  dismay.  The  settlers  were  almost 
defenceless.  The  native  princes,  who  had  sold  them  the 
territory  with  the  treacherous  intention  that  they  should  not 
settle  there,  were  threatening  to  destroy  them,  and  were 
forming  combinations  for  that  purpose.  In  such  an  emer- 
gency it  was,  that  he  came  to  a work  entirely  new.  He  had 
been  educated  for  the  work  of  preaching  the  gospel.  He 
had  been  a teacher  in  a literary  institution.  He  was  still  a 
young  man.  And  now  he  had  come  to  place  himself  at  the 
head  of  an  unorganized,  feeble,  heterogeneous  community. 
He  was  to  act  the  Legislator ; — he  was  to  form  and  put  in 
operation,  a system  of  government ; he  was  to  sway  the 
minds  of  this  unformed  mass  of  human  beings,  and  mould 
them  into  unity  ; he  was  to  make  them  freemen,  and  habit- 
uate them  to  the  business  of  governing  themselves.  At  the 
same  time  he  must  act  the  Soldier ; — he  must  rouse  in  his 
little  flock  of  once  degraded  men,  the  spirit  of  manhood  and 
the  enthusiasm  of  self-defence,  and  he  must  head  them  in 
the  conflict.  He  must  act  the  Engineer ; — he  must  lay  out 
the  fortifications  of  his  little  city,  and  superintend  their  hasty 
construction  ; he  must  take  care  that  the  very  dwellings — 
even  the  temporary  huts  and  shelters  of  the  people — are 
constructed  with  reference  to  security  from  the  enemy,  and 
facility  of  defence  in  an  assault.  All  this  must  be  commen- 
ced at  once,  for  delay  was  ruin.  And  just  as  all  this  was 


11 


commencing,  tlie  fever  which  attacks  almost  every  man  on 
his  first  arrival  from  a temperate  to  a tropical  climate,  at- 
tacked him  and  the  fifty  emigrants  who  had  come  with  him, 
with  uncommon  violence.  They  were  all  sick — sick  without 
a physician — sick  without  any  proper  shelter  from  the  rains 
— sick  almost  without  medicines.  His  own  wife,  among 
others,  was  soon  carried  to  the  grave.  But  for  him,  and  for 
all,  there  was  no  time  to  relax  their  efforts.  Even  in  sick- 
ness and  distress,  there  could  be  no  respite.  Their  works 
must  go  on  ; for,  daily  and  nightly,  they  were  expecting  that 
an  army  of  savages  would  be  upon  them.  While  prostrated 
by  disease,  in  the  lucid  intervals  between  the  returns  of  deli- 
rium, our  friend  was  compelled  to  rise  from  his  sick  bed,  to 
inspect  the  condition  and  progress  of  these  operations,  to  re- 
ceive reports,  to  give  out  orders,  to  reanimate  the  weary  and 
desponding,  and  to  superintend  all  the  affairs  of  this  dismay- 
ed and  distressed  community.  All  this  he  did  ; and  when 
at  last  the  fever  had  left  him  in  extreme  debility,  and  he  was 
just  beginning  to  recover  strength,  the  danger  which  they 
had  been  so  long  apprehending,  came.  About  three  months 
after  his  arrival,  when  their  defences  had  been  only  partially 
completed,  and  when  their  entire  effective  force  was  thirty- 
five  men  and  boys,  they  were  attacked  at  the  dawm  of  day 
by  a force  of  at  least  eight  hundred  armed  savages.  They 
were  taken  by  surprise,  and  the  enemy  were  almost  in  the 
midst  of  them  before  the  alarm  was  given.  By  an  effort  of 
desperate  valor,  directed  by  the  extraordinary  self-possession 
and  energy  of  our  departed  friend,  the  enemy  were  driven 
off,  and  the  settlement  on  which  were  suspended  so  many 
hopes  of  humanity  and  religion  was  delivered.  A few  days 
afterwards,  while  the  wounded  w'ere  still  helpless,  and  the 
well  were  exhausted  w ith  constant  fatigue  and  watching  and 
alarm,  the  enemy  returned  with  redoubled  numbers  and  re- 
doubled rage  for  their  destruction  ; and  again,  by  a valor  and 


12 


energy  which  would  do  honor  to  the  history  of  any  man  or 
any  people,  they  were  repulsed,  and  utterly  defeated.* 

1 have  thus  described  the  commencement  of  his  labors 
and  sufferings  in  Africa,  because  there  is  no  other  way  in 
which  I could  so  well  describe  his  character  : inasmuch  as  it 
is  only  by  what  a man  has  done,  that  we  can  ever  distinctly 
understand  what  he  has  been.  And  what  sort  of  character 
it  was  that  could  act  thus  in  circumstances  such  as  these,  it 
is  not  difficult  to  divine.  Let  me  say  then,  that  the  same  en- 
ergy, the  same  self-possession  and  promptitude,  the  same 
exhaustless  diligence,  the  same  vigor  and  quickness  of  intel- 
lectual power,  the  same  courage  amid  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers, have  been  exhibited  in  all  his  labors  there.  The  estab- 
lishment which  he  found  on  the  brink  of  extinction,  he  left  in 
prosperity  and  peace.  The  little  colony  which  he  found 
defenceless,  weak  and  trembling  with  dismay,  he  left  so 
strengthened,  as  to  be  safe  against  any  probable  attack  by 
land  or  sea.  The  people  whom  he  began  to  rule  when  they 
were  few,  unorganized,  and  disunited,  he  has  successful- 
ly trained  to  habits  of  discipline,  and  taught  to  enjoy  the 
blessings  of  rational  liberty  and  real  independence.  And 
how  well  he  has  governed  that  people,  how  happy  he  has 
made  them,  how  he  has  drawn  their  affections  round  him, 

v 

their  grief  at  his  departure  can  testify.  One  of  their  own 
number,  in  whose  hands  our  friend,  on  leaving  the  colony, 
placed  the  administration  of  affairs,  thus  speaks  of  the  occa- 
sion of  his  embarkation  for  his  native  country.  “The  Colo- 
nial Agent,  went  on  board  the  brig  Doris,  March  2G,  1828, 
escorted  by  three  companies  of  the  military,  and  when  ta- 
king leave  he  delivered  a short  address  which  was  truly  af- 
fecting. Never,  1 suppose  were  greater  tokens  of  respect 
shown  by  any  community  on  taking  leave  of  their  head.  At 
least  two  thirds  of  the  inhabitants  of  Monrovia,  men,  women 


See  Appendix,  Note  A. 


13 


and  children,  were  out  on  this  occasion  ; and  nearly  all  part- 
ed from  him  with  tears.  In  my  opinion,  the  hope  of  his  re- 
turn in  a few  months,  alone  enabled  them  to  give  him  up. 
He  is  indeed  dear  to  this  people,  and  it  will  be  a joyful  day 
when  we  are  permitted  again  to  see  him.”  Ah  that  day ! 
What  grief  will  be  theirs,  when  they  learn  that  they  shall 
see  his  face  no  more. 

Nor  were  this  man’s  moral  and  social  traits  of  character, 
inferior  to  his  intellectual  qualities.  Distinguished  as  he 
was,  for  power  and  comprehensiveness  of  intellect,  for  rapid- 
ity of  conception,  for  versatility  of  genius,  for  skill  in  the 
management  of  men  : and  for  boldness  and  energy  of  ac- 
tion, he  was  no  less  marked  by  those  traits  of  character, 
which  command  our  affection  or  secure  our  confidence.  A 
mildness,  and  suavity,  and  afl’ectionateness  of  disposition, 
and  a disinterestedness  which  felt  for  all  as  for  himself,  was 
blended  with  that  decision  and  energy,  which  we  have  al- 
ready noticed.  A patience  under  pain  and  trouble,  a meek 
fortitude  of  spirit,  w hich,  instead  of  sinking  under  distress,  or 
disappointment,  or  infirmity,  is  humbled  indeed,  but  is  hum- 
bled only  to  rise  more  majestic — was  exemplified  in  many 
striking  incidents  of  his  history.  A dignity  of  person  and 
manner  which  arrested  the  attention  of  strangers,  and  which 
fitted  him  for  command,  was  not  in  him  inconsistent  with  a 
deep  and  unaffected  humility,  to  which  those  who  saw  him 
on  his  death-bed,  bear  ample  testimony.  And  the  basis,  the 
grace,  and  ornament  of  all  these  virtues,  was  his  piety — a prin- 
ciple of  love  and  confidence  towards  God,  springing  from 
the  knowledge  of  his  Son  as  Lord  and  Saviour.  It  was  this 
which  enabled  him  to  bear  with  patience  every  burthen  ; to 
resist  the  struggles  of  a corrupted  nature  ; to  give  himself  to 
labor  and  to  suffering,  with  the  self-denial  of  a martyr;  and 
at  last  to  die,  with  a calm,  thoughtful,  untrembling  confi- 
dence, which  none  but  the  Christian  can  experience.* 


See  Appendix,  Note  B. 


14 


Such  was  he  whose  life  has  been  spent,  and  prematurel) 
exhausted  in  his  zeal  for  Africa.  Do  you  ask,  to  w hat  pur- 
pose has  he  died?  I would  that  we  could  stand  together  on 
the  promontory  of  Montserado,  and  see  what  has  been  ac- 
complished by  those  toils  and  exposures,  which  have  cost  this 
man  his  life.  Hard  by,  we  might  see  the  island,  where,  a 
few  years  since,  there  was  a market  for  the  slave  trade.  To 
that  place  crowds  of  captives  were  brought  every  year,  and 
there  they  were  sold  like  beasts  of  burthen.  From  that  place 
they  were  consigned  to  the  unspeakable  cruelties  of  thronged 
and  pestilential  slave-ships ; and  those  whom  death  released 
not  in  their  passage  across  the  Atlantic,  went  into  perpetual 
slavery.  At  that  time,  this  cape  was  literally  consecrated 
to  the  devil ; and  here  the  miserable  natives,  in  the  gloom 
of  the  dark  forest,  offered  worship  to  the  evil  Spirit.  All 
this  was  only  a few  years  ago.  And  what  see  you  now  ? 
The  forest  that  had  crowned  the  lofty  cape  for  centuries, 
has  been  cleared  away ; and  here  are  the  dwellings  of  a 
civilized  and  intelligent  people.  Here  are  twelve  hundred  or- 
derly, industrious  and  prosperous  freemen  ; who  were  once 
slaves,  or  in  a state  of  degradation  hardly  preferable  to  bon- 
dage. Here  are  schools,  and  courts  of  justice,  and  lo!  the 
spire  which  marks  the  temple  dedicated  to  our  God  and 
Saviour — strange  land-mark  to  the  mariner  that  traverses 
the  seas  of  Africa.  Here,  for  a hundred  miles  along  the 
coast,  no  slave-trader  dares  to  spread  his  canvass ; for  the 
flag  that  waves  over  that  fortress,  and  the  guns  that  threaten 
from  its  battlements,  tell  him  that  this  land  is  sacred  to  hu- 
manity and  freedom.  Is  all  this  nothing?  Is  it  nothing  to 
have  laid  on  a barbarous  continent,  the  foundation  of  a free 
and  Christian  empire?  This  is  the  work  in  which  our  friend 
has  died. 

But  this  is  not  all.  I look  forward  a few  years,  and  I see 
these  results  swelling  to  an  importance  which  may  seem 
incredible  to  cold  and  narrow  minds.  I see  those  few 


15 


and  scattered  settlements,  extending  along  the  coast  and 
spreading  through  the  inland.  I see  thousands  of  the  op- 
pressed and  wretched,  fleeing  from  lands  where  at  the  best 
they  can  have  nothing  but  the  name  and  forms  of  freedom, 
to  this  new  republic,  and  finding  there  a refuge  from  their 
degradation.  1 see  the  accursed  slave  trade,  which  for  so 
many  ages  past,  has  poured  desolation  along  twelve  hun- 
dred miles  of  the  African  coast,  utterly  suppressed,  and  re- 
membered only  as  an  illustration  of  what  human  wickedness 
can  be.  I see  the  ancient  wilderness,  like  our  own  wide 
forests  of  the  west,  vanishing  before  the  march  of  civilized 
and  Christian  man.  I see  towns  and  cities  rising  in  peace 
and  beauty,  as  they  rise  along  our  Atlantic  shore  and  on  the 
borders  of  our  rivers.  I see  fair  villages,  and  quiet  cottages, 
and  rich  plantations,  spreading  out  where  now  in  the  unbro- 
ken wilderness,  the  lion  couches  for  his  prey.  I see  the  pagan 
tribes,  catching  the  light  of  civilization,  and  learning  from 
the  lips  of  Christian  teachers,  to  exchange  the  bondage  of 
their  superstitions,  for  the  blessed  freedom  of  the  gospel. 
I see  churches,  schools  and  all  the  institutions  of  religion 
and  science,  adorning  Africa  as  they  adorn  the  country 
of  the  pilgrims.  I hear  from  the  mountains,  and  the  val- 
lies,  and  along  all  the  yet  undiscovered  streams  of  that  vast 
continent,  the  voice  of  Christian  worship  and  the  songs  of 
Christian  praise.  In  all  those  scenes  of  beauty  or  of  glad- 
ness, I see,  and  in  all  those  accents  of  thanksgiving,  I hear, 
to  what  purpose  this  servant  of  God  poured  out  his  noble 
soul  in  his  labors  of  love. 

Who  asks  us,  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ? To  what 
purpose ! Thousands  and  thousands  of  the  exiled  sons  of 
Africa,  going  back  from  lands  of  slavery,  to  enjoy  true  free- 
dom in  the  rich  and  lovely  land  which  God  has  given  them, 
shall  one  day  answer  in  their  shouts  of  joy.  To  what  pur- 
pose ! Africa,  delivered  from  her  miseries,  her  chains  thrown 
off.  her  spirit  emancipated  from  the  power  of  darkness,  ri- 


16 


sing  up  in  strength  and  beauty  like  a new-born  angel  from 
the  night  of  chaos,  and  stretching  out  her  hands  to  God  in 
praise,  shall  one  day  answer,  to  what  purpose  this  martyr  of 
benevolence  has  lived  and  died. 

Is  there  not  then  blessed  consolation  blended  with  the  af- 
fliction of  his  death  ? What  though  he  has  died  in  the  midst 
of  life  ? What  though  he  has  died  away  from  the  endear- 
ments of  home,  away  from  the  parting  embraces  of  parents, 
and  kindred,  and  early  friends?  Is  not  such  a death  better  than 
any  inferior  life?  What  parent  would  exchange  the  memo- 
ry of  such  a departed  son,  for  the  embrace  of  any  living  one? 
Who  would  not  rather  that  his  brother  or  his  friend  had  liv- 
ed such  a life,  and  died  so  nobly  for  so  noble  ends,  than  that 
he  were  still  living,  and  living  for  no  such  exalted  purpose  ? 
Is  not  that  life  longest  which  best  answers  life’s  great  end  ? 
Is  that  life  short  which  has  accomplished  great  results  ? 

“ Can  death  come 
To  him  untimely  who  is  fit  to  die  ?” 

We  may  indeed  weep  when  such  a mind  departs  from  the 
world  which  its  labors  have  blessed.  We  may  weep  when 
such  hopes  of  bleeding  humanity  are  extinguished.  But 
shall  not  triumph  mingle  with  our  tears  ? Shall  not  emotions 
of  praise  temper  and  alleviate  our  sorrow?  He  is  not  dead, 
but  sleepeth.  More;  he  is  not  dead  to  usefulness.  His 
works  still  live.  The  light  which  he  has  kindled  shall  cheer 
nations  yet  unborn.  His  memory  shall  never  die.  Years 
and  ages  hence,  when  the  African  mother  shall  be  able  to 
sit  with  her  children,  under  the  shade  of  their  native  cocoa, 
without  trembling  in  fear  of  the  manstealer  and  murderer, 
she  will  speak  his  name  with  words  of  thankfulness  to  God  ; 
and  as  she  tells  them  the  story  of  his  devoted  labors,  and  his 
early  death,  she  will  teach  them  to  trace  back  their  happi- 
ness, their  advancing  intelligence,  their  very  safety,  to  the 


17 


remote  agency,  under  God,  of  the  man  around  whose  bier, 
it  is  now  our  lot — our  privilege  let  us  say,  to  mingle  our  tears. 

llis  example  shall  speak.  There  have  been  men  whose 
names  are  way-marks  ; whose  examples,  through  successive 
ages,  stir  the  spirits  of  their  fellow  men  with  noble  emula- 
tion. What  has  been  done  for  God,  and  for  the  souls  of 
men,  and  for  the  cause  of  wretched  human  nature  by  the 
luster  which  gathers  around  the  name  of  David  Brainerd. 
How  many  lofty  spirits  has  the  simple  history  of  his  toils  and 
sorrows  kindled  and  roused  to  kindred  enterprise.  Other 
names  there  are,  which  beam  from  age  to  age  with  the  same 
glory.  Howard,  Clarkson,  Swartz,  Mills, — what  mean- 
ing is  there  in  such  names  as  these.  Our  departed  friend 
will  add  another  to  that  brilliant  catalogue.  He  takes  his 
place 

“ Amid  th’  august  and  never  dying  light 
Of  constellated  spirits  who  have  gained 
A name  in  heaven  by  power  of  heavenly  deeds."’ 


Let  us  praise  God  for  the  light  of  his  example,  which 
shall  never  be  extinguished,  and  which,  as  it  beams  on  us, 
shall  also  beam  on  our  children,  and  our  children’s  children, 
moving  them  to  deeds  of  godlike  benevolence. 

“ Praise  ! for  yet  one  more  name  with  power  endowed. 

To  cheer  and  guide  us, onward  as  we  press; 

Yet  one  more  image,  on  the  heart  bestowed, 

To  dwell  there,  beautiful  in  holiness.” 

W ho  will  follow’  this  example  ? Who  is  ambitious  to  win 
the  crowm  which  apostles  and  saints  have  worn  in  triumph  ? 
Who  would  win  the  crown  of  martyrdom?  Do  I speak  to 
none  among  the  young,  w ho  is  willing  to  hazard  his  life,  and 
to  give  it  up,  if  need  be,  for  God,  and  for  the  cause  of  dying 
man  ? Do  I speak  to  none  among  such  as  are  now  looking 
forward  to  inquire  what  course  of  life,  and  what  sphere  of 
labor  thev  shall  choose,  into  wdiose  mind  the  light  of  this 

3 


18 


example  will  enter,  to  waken  a like  radiance  ? Who  would 
live  and  die  in  the  quiet,  the  ignoble  quiet,  of  ease  and  fire- 
side safety,  when  he  might  write  his  name  among  the  stars, 
and  having  fought  the  good  fight,  be  found  at  last  with  the 
saints  and  the  martyrs  of  Jesus,  who  have  come  out  of  great 
tribulation.  Who  does  not  feel  it  to  be  true  in  a higher 
and  far  purer  sense  than  that  in  which  it  was  originally 
spoken, 

“One  glorious  hour  of  crowded  life 

Is  worth  an  age  without  a name.” 

But  there  is  another,  a plainer  application  of  the  example 
which  this  servant  of  God  has  left  us ; an  application  which 
every  one  of  us  may  make  for  himself,  and  which  I hope  not 
one  of  us,  softened  as  we  all  are  by  the  touching,  melting 
circumstances  of  this  occasion,  will  seek  to  evade.  Was  it 
right  for  this  man  to  wear  out  his  life  in  the  cause  of  benev- 
olence ; and  is  it  right  for  me,  or  you,  to  do  nothing  in  this 
cause  ? Do  you  approve,  do  you  applaud  his  self-denymg 
efforts,  his  patience  unto  death  in  the  work  of  giving  to  the 
oppressed  and  wretched  children  of  Africa,  the  blessings  of 
freedom  and  intelligence,  and  the  better  blessings  of  the 
gospel ; and  can  you  justify  yourself  in  treating  with  neglect 
that  very  enterprise  in  which  he  v has  thus  toiled  and  died  7 
Have  you  treated  that  enterprise  with  neglect?  You  have 
felt,  perhaps,  an  interest  in  it ; you  have  sympathized,  per- 
haps, with  the  trials  and  successes  of  the  mighty  undertaking. 
And  is  this  all?  What  contributions  of  yours  have  gone  to 
forward  this  great  work  ? What  have  you  ever  done,  while 
this  man  was  yet  alive  and  toiling  at  his  post  of  danger,  to 
cheer  him  under  his  discouragements,  or  to  advance  the 
end  for  which  he  was  thus  sacrificing  all  that  other  men 
deem  valuable  ? Have  you  done  all  that  you  might  have 
done?  Shall  1 ask,  have  you  done  nothing?  Can  you  now 
say  that  you  will  do  nothing  in  future  ? Can  you  suppress  the 
determination  that  henceforth  you  will  do  much  for  Africa  : 


19 


and  thus  will  show  that  the  mysterious  providence  which 
brought  this  man  to  die  among  strangers,  and  to  he  buried 
far  from  all  the  objects  of  his  earthly  love,  was  not  without 
an  end  ? 

There  is  always  something  in  death,  and  the  appendages 
of  death,  winch  arrests  attention  and  awakens  serious  thought. 
It  throws  over  the  world,  and  over  all  our  pursuits,  a light 
which  judgment,  as  well  as  feeling,  tells  us,  is  the  light  of 
truth.  The  death  of  a scoffer  or  a worldling,  tills  the  mind 
with  terror.  To  see  him  hastening  to  the  final  moment,  to 
see  him  dying,  to  see  him  dead,  then  to  stand  by  his  coffin 
and  his  grave,  has,  ere  now,  made  hard  hearts  to  quiver  with 
the  apprehension  of  what,  in  spite  of  man’s  forgetfulness  or 
man’s  contempt,  must  lie  beyond  the  boundary  of  time. 
Who  can  doubt  that  such  impressions  are  true;  or  that  to 
lose  sight  of  them  is  folly  ? The  deatli  of  a humble  Christian, 
makes  us  feel  the  value  of  that  faith,  which  throws  the  bright- 
ness of  eternity  over  the  shadows  of  time,  and  binds  the  afl’ec- 
tions  of  the  soul  to  heaven.  Who  doubts  that  it  is  wise  to  act 
on  such  impressions?  And  is  there  any  thing  delusive  in  the 
impressions  of  this  occasion  ? There  is  no  delusion  about 
death.  It  is  death  which  scatters  all  delusion.  Ask  your 
own  hearts  now,  what  it  is  for  which  you  ought  to  live;  what 
recollections  you  will  need  to  cheer  your  spirit  in  the  hour 
of  its  departure.  In  times  when  the  delusions  of  this  world 
are  brightest,  and  most  fascinating,  your  bewildered  heart 
may  answer  falsely ; but  when  it  speaks  the  words  of  sober- 
ness, the  words  of  serious  solemn  thought,  believe  it,  for 
those  are  the  words  of  truth.  What,  then,  at  such  a mo- 
ment as  the  present,  in  view  of  the  example  of  this  man,  are 
your  impressions  of  the  end  for  which  you  ought  to  live  ? 
Standing  by  the  death-bed,  or  the  coffin,  or  the  grave,  of 
one  whose  life  has  been  thus  devoted  to  the  cause  of  God, 
and  to  the  liberty  and  happiness  of  man,  who  does  not  feel 
the  meanness,  the  guilt,  of  living  in  this  world  for  narrow, 


20 


selfish  purposes  ? Look  now  at  the  example  of  this  departed 
benefactor  of  his  country  and  the  world ; trace  in  thought 
his  brief  career  of  pain  and  conflict,  opening  into  early  glory; 
and  if  you  have  not  given  your  whole  heart  to  God ; if  you 
are  loving  the  worid,  and  the  things  that  are  in  the  world;  if 
you  are  living  to  yourself ; be  ashamed  : for  O i how  base  a 
thing  is  it  in  man  to  prostitute  to  selfish  ends,  the  faculties 
which  God  has  given  him  that  he  may  share  the  purest  hap- 
piness, and  reach  the  most  exalted  destiny.  Who  will  be 
contented  then  to  live  for  nothing?  Who  will  hold  back  from 
giving  up  his  all  to  advance  the  praise  of  God,  and  the  well* 
being  of  the  world  ? 

“ Rouse  to  some  work  of  high  and  holy  love, 

And  thou  an  angel’s  happiness  shalt  know, — 

Shalt  bless  the  earth  while  in  the  world  above  ; 

The  good  begun  by  thee  shall  onward  flow 
In  many  a branching  stream,  and  wider  grow ; 

The  seed  that  in  these  few  and  fleeting  hours. 

Thy  hands  unsparing  and  unwearied  sow. 

Shall  deck  thy  grave,  with  amaranthine  flowers, 

And  yield  thee  fruits  divine  in  heaven’s  immortal  bowers  ” 


ADDRESS 


DELIVERED  AT  TIIE  GRAVE,  BY  R.  R.  GURLEY, 


SECRETARY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  COLONIZATION  SOCIETY. 


It  seems  proper,  that,  in  the  name  of  the  American  Coloni- 
zation Society,  I should,  on  this  occasion,  express  sincere 
and  heartfelt  thanks  to  those  present,  for  the  many  kind  at- 
tentions, and  the  very  tender  sympathy,  which  was  shown  to 
our  excellent  friend,  (and  of  which  no  one  was  more  sensi- 
ble than  he,)  during  the  distressing,  but  alas ! too  brief  pe- 
riod, since  his  arrival.  Let  me  assure  you,  Christian  friends, 
that  this  kindness,  and  this  sympathy,  will  not  be  forgotten  ; 
that  while  you  enjoy  the  sweet  recollections  of  having  sooth- 
ed the  last  hours  of  an  invaluable  man,  ten  thousand  hearts 
will  bless  you,  and  the  name  of  your  beautiful  city  be  pro- 
nounced, even  on  a distant  continent,  with  the  feelings  and 
in  the  tones  of  affection.  Believe  me,  the  time  will  come, 
w hen  Africa  shall  send  forth  her  pilgrims,  to  shed  their  tears, 
and  lay  their  offerings  upon  this  grave  of  the  Martyr  to  her 
Liberties. 

We  have  come  to  the  burial  of  no  ordinary  man.  I cannot 
now,  if  I could  at  any  time,  pronounce  his  Eulogy,  and  shall 
only  attempt,  in  the  few'  words  I shall  say  of  him,  to  express, 
simply  and  briefly,  the  conclusions  of  my  own  understand- 
ing, resulting  from  a long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with 
his  character.  He  possessed  a commanding  and  compre- 
hensive intellect,  a courage  which  Rome  would  have  honor- 
ed, a disinterestedness  which  would  have  been  venerated, 
even  in  apostolic  days,  and  a zeal  which  consumed  him  by 
giving  light.  It  is  now  more  than  six  years,  since  he  be- 


22 


came,  voluntarily,  an  exile  from  his  friends  and  his  country, 
that  he  might  plant  the  seeds  of  civilization,  and  Christian 
truth,  in  the  moral  desert  of  Africa.  He  arrived  at  a mo- 
ment when  the  hopes  of  our  infant  colony  were  just  expir- 
ing, and  rekindled  them.  He  did  this  while  sick,  bereav- 
ed and  afflicted.  He  did  it,  while  no  light  shone  upon 
his  way  but  from  the  throne  of  God.  He  did  it,  while 
the  waves  of  misfortune  beat  against  him,  with  a force 
which  it  would  seem  must  have  overwhelmed  any  other 
mind  than  his  own.  But  his  soul  was  self-balanced,  “lie 
braced  his  corslet  o’er  his  heart’s  deep  wounds nor  could 
danger  or  suffering  disturb  the  serenity,  or  break  the  forti- 
tude of  his  spirit.  He  “shook  despondence  from  his  soul,” 
and  rose  from  the  pressure  of  calamity  to  the  work  of  his 
God.  It  was  at  this  crisis,  that  on  my  way  to  Africa,  I 
found  him  at  the  Cape  de  Verds,  (to  which  Islands  he  had 
resorted  a short  season  for  the  benefit  of  his  health,)  and 
accompanied  him  thence  to  our  Colony,  and  enjoyed  the 
high  privilege  of  sharing  with  him,  the  effort  to  give  system 
and  order,  to  the  Government  of  Liberia.  At  midnight  on 
Cape  Montserado,  while  we  alone  of  the  little  community 
awoke,  with  the  majestic  ocean  breaking  at  our  feet,  and 
heaven  shining  in  beauty  and  in  brightness  over  us,  and 
the  wide  spread  forest  veiled  beneath  our  eye  in  a gentler 
and  a softer  light,  it  was  mine  to  confer  with  our  now  bles- 
sed friend,  to  observe  the  workings  of  his  quick  and  power- 
ful mind,  while  he  sought  to  secure  interests,  compared  with 
which,  he  deemed  life  itself  as  worthless.  The  impression 
then  made  upon  my  memory  and  my  heart  by  his  intellect- 
ual energy  and  moral  worth  can  never  be  effaced.  The 
expectations  which  were  then  excited  have  been  more  than 
realized.  He  has  lived  to  establish  the  African  Colony  upon 
sure  foundations.  Having  defended  it  with  a courage  and 
ability  not  exceeded,  perhaps,  in  the  military  exploits  of  this 
or  any  other  age,  he  has  shaped  and  polished  its  rude  mate- 


23 


rials,  and  given  to  them  order,  strength,  and  beauty.  He 
has  breathed  into  the  community  over  which  lie  presided  a 
spirit  of  activ  ity,  industry  and  enterprise  ; instructed  them  in 
their  social  duties,  their  political  rights,  their  Christian  obli- 
gations; checked  their  irregularities  by  his  decision  ; and  by 
his  integrity  and  kindness  won  their  hearts.  Hut  his  intlu- 
cnce  has  extended  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Colony.  He 
has  opened  to  the  poor  pagans  the  ever  blessed  Gospel,  and 
read  to  them  of  justice,  mercy,  and  peace.  He  has  exhibit- 
ed to  them  Christianity,  not  as  a dead  letter,  but  as  a practi- 
cal principle;  as  written  in  the  life;  as  shining  forth  in  sincer- 
ity, truth,  meekness,  purity,  charity,  and  all  the  virtues  which 
add  dignity  or  worth  to  character.  And  the  natives,  while 
they  have  been  awed  by  the  terror  of  his  name,  have  wept 
in  the  presence  of  his  goodness. 

Africa  then  must  mourn,  but  not  in  solitary  grief.  Thou- 
sands throughout  this  union,  regard  the  cause  for  which  out 
friend  has  died,  as  one  of  the  holiest  and  the  best;  and  will 
lament  that  a main  pillar  of  its  strength  is  fallen.  But  God 
reigns,  and  to  his  wisdom  vve  bow.  This  is  not  the  less 
venerable,  because  not  understood. 

Do  you  inquire  what  principle  regulated  and  directed  the 
great  intellectual  powers  of  our  friend,  to  effect  purposes  so 
important  as  must  be  attributed  to  his  short  life  ? It  was  pie- 
ty. To  him  may  be  applied  the  language,  which  he  selected 
himself,  to  illustrate  the  character  of  his  early  predecessor 
in  the  agency.  “ His  zeal  was  ardent,  his  devotion  entire,, 
his  hopes  elevated  to  sublimity,  and  his  faith  invincible. 
The  love  and  fear  of  God,  tempered  in  just  proportions,  ran 
through  the  whole  texture  of  his  religious  character.” 
There  was  moral  sublimity  in  his  death.  But  a few  hours 
before  his  departure,  while  I sustained  him  as  he  sat  up,  and 
laid  my  hand  upon  his  pallid  brow,  the  perspiration  flowing 
from  it,  and  every  feature  expressing  death,  he  offered  up 
his  last  supplication  in  terms  as  solemn  and  affecting  as  ever 


24 


fell  from  mortal  lips.  A few  words,  uttered  with  great  dis- 
tinctness, I have  attempted  to  preserve. 

Prayer. — “O  my  Heavenly  Father,  look  mercifully  upon 
thy  afflicted  servant,  and  do  not  lay  upon  him  that  which 
through  weakness  he  is  unable  to  bear,  but  let  thy  grace  be 
sufficient  for  him.  May  he  desire  communion  with  thee 
above  all  other  blessings.  Bless  my  friend  here  present ; 
keep  him  in  thy  service,  and  graciously  reward  him  for  all 
his  kindness.  O bless  all  those  who  have  shown  a tender 
concern  for  me  in  this  place,  and  all  my  relatives  and  friends, 
and  let  them  never  come  into  condemnation.  O bless  the 
colony  and  that  poor  people  among  whom  I have  laboured. 
Grant  to  me,  O merciful  Father,  saving  faith,  sanctifying 
faith,  and  glorify  thy  great  name  in  my  eternal  salvation. 
Grant  these  blessings,  O God  of  Grace,  for  the  Redeemer’s 
sake,  who  suffered  for  us,  and  to  thee  shall  praise  be  given, 
through  all  eternity,  through  all  eternity.  Amen  ! Amen  !” 

And  shall  we  leave  this  spot  without  instruction?  From 
this  grave  comes  forth  an  appeal  to  us  in  behalf  of  Afri- 
ca. Yes,  brother  beloved,  I trust  in  God,  that  from  the  very 
dust  in  which  thou  art  reposing,,  will  emanate  an  influence 
which  shall  neither  be  arrested  or  resisted  until  bleeding,  dy- 
ing Ethiopia  shall  see  the  light  of  redemption,  and  stretch 
out  her  hand  to  God.  Who  that  has  the  feelings  of  a Chris- 
tian, or  even  of  a man,  would  not  cherish  that  light  which  so 
many  have  gladly  died  to  kindle ; which  shines  over  Afri- 
ca’s sorrows  like  mercy  over  a soul  in  despair;  which,  unless 
criminally  neglected,  must  soon  spread  like  the  morning  on 
the  mountains  of  Kong,  and  brighten  the  Niger’s  mysterious 
waves  ? Hearts  steeled  to  every  sentiment  of  kindness  shall 
be  softened  by  its  influence  ; where  the  King  of  Dahomey  en- 
ters his  palace  on  a pavement  of  human  sculls,  shall  stand  a 
Christian  Temple ; and  the  words  of  Death!  Death!  Death1 


*25 


which  arouse  the  population  of  Ashantee,  to  witness  the  effu- 
sion of  human  blood,  shall  be  succeeded  by  humble  and  holy 
orisons  and  hymns  of  praise.  Over  this  beloved  dust,  then  let 
us  pledge  ourselves  to  do  something  for  Africa.  Sixty  millions 
for  whom  Christ  died,  our  brethren  by  indissoluble  ties,  are 
perishing;  can  we  not,  will  we  not,  aid  their  redemption.  It  is 
by  imitating  the  example  of  the  deceased,  that  we  shall  pay 
the  best  tribute  to  his  memory.  To  this  example,  thousands 
will  look  as  to  his  imperishable  memorial.  Let  us  hope  that 
its  influence  will  excite  new  zeal  in  the  African  cause  through- 
out this  nation;  that  as  one  man  we  shall  apply  our  strength 
to  remove  the  heaviest  of  our  national  calamities,  and  to 
bless  Africa  with  freedom  and  the  Gospel. 

Such  a hope,  departed  brother,  we  will  cherish  1 

“ Thou  hast  left  behind. 

Powers  that  will  work  for  thee  ! air,  earth,  and  skies ; 

There  is  not  a breathing  of  the  common  wind 

That  will  forget  thee  ! thou  has  great  allies  ! 

Thy  friends  are  exultations,  agonies, 

-And  love,  and  man’s  unconquerable  mind,” 


4 


. • 


APPENDIX. 


A. 

The  history  of  the  defence  of  the  settlement  on  Cape  Montscra- 
do,  in  November,  1 822,  affords  so  striking  an  illustration  of  the  in- 
tellectual power,  the  promptitude,  the  energy,  and  the  heroic  brave- 
ry by  which  Mr.  Ashmun  was  distinguished,  that  I doubt  not  I shall 
gratify  my  readers  by  extracting  from  his  own  “ Memoir  of  the 
American  Colonists,”  a more  minute  statement  than  could  be  pre- 
sented in  the  discourse. 

« The  plan  of  defence  adopted  was  to  station  five  heavy  guns,  at 
the  different  angles  of  a triangle  which  should  circumscribe  the 
whole  settlement — each  of  the  angles  resting  on  a point  of  ground 
sufficiently  commanding  to  enfilade  two  sides  of  the  triangle,  and 
sweep  a considerable  extent  of  ground  beyond  the  lines.  The  guns 
at  these  stations  were  to  be  covered  by  musket  proof  triangular 
stockades,  of  which  any  two  should  be  sufficient  to  contain  all  the 
settlers  in  their  wings.  The  brass  piece  and  two  swivels  mounted 
on  traveling  carriages,  were  stationed  in  the  center,  ready  to  sup- 
port the  post  which  might  be  exposed  to  the  heaviest  attack.  Af- 
ter completing  these  detached  works,  it  was  in  the  intention  of  the 
Agent,  had  the  enemy  allowed  the  time,  to  join  all  together  by  a 
paling  to  be  carried  quite  around  the  settlement  ; — and  in  the  event 
of  a yet  longer  respite,  to  carry  on,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  under 
the  protection  of  the  nearest  fortified  point,  the  construction  of  the 
Martello  tower  ; which,  as  soon  as  completed,  would  nearly  super- 
sede all  the  other  works  ; and  by  presenting  an  impregnable  bar- 
rier to  the  success  of  any  native  force,  probably  become  the  instru- 
ment of  a general  and  permanent  pacification.  Connected  with 
these  measures  of  safety,  was  the  extension,  to  the  utmost,  of  the 
cleared  space  about  the  settlement,  still  leaving  the  trees  and  brush- 
wood, after  being  separated  from  their  trunks,  to  spread  the  ground 


28 


■frith  a tangled  hedge,  through  which  nothing  should  be  able  to  make 
fts  way,  except  the  shot  from  the  batteries. 

“ This  plan  was  fully  communicated  to  the  most  intelligent  of  the 
people  ; which,  in  the  event  of  the  disability  or  death  of  the  Agent, 
they  might,  it  was  hoped,  so  far  carry  into  effect  as  to  ensure  the 
preservation  of  the  settlement. 

“ It  was  an  occasion  of  grateful  acknowledgment  to  that  Divine 
Power  under  whose  heavy  hand  the  Agent  was  now  obliged  to  bow, 
that  he  had  been  spared  to  settle  these  arrangements,  and  see  them 
in  a train  of  accomplishment,  previous  to  his  being  laid  entirely 
aside.  It  was  also  a source  of  melancholy  satisfaction  that  he  was 
permitted  to  watch  the  fatal  progress  of  disease  in  an  affectionate 
wife  until  the  last  ray  of  intellectual  light  was  extinguished  by  its 
force,  two  days  before  her  death.  Her  life  had  been  one  of  un- 
common devotion  and  self-denial,  inspired  by  a vigorous  and  prac- 
tical faith  in  the  Divine  Saviour  of  the  world  ; and  her  end,  accord- 
ing to  his  promise,  was  ineffable  peace.  She  expired  on  Sunday 
the  15th  of  September.” 

“ From  this  date  until  the  first  week  in  November,  the  Agent  con- 
tinued in  an  extremely  low  and  dangerous  state  ; so  entirely  debili- 
tated in  body  and  mind,  as  to  be  nearly  incapable  of  motion,  and  in- 
sensible to  every  thing  except  the  consciousness  of  suffering.” 

“ On  the  7th  of  November,  intelligence  was  received  at  the  Cape 
that  the  last  measures  had  been  taken  preparatory  to  an  assault  on 
the  settlement,  which  was  ordered  within  four  days.  The  plan  of 
attack  being  left  to  the  head  warriors,  whose  trade  it  is  to  concert 
and  conduct  it,  was  not  to  be  learnt. 

“ The  Agent  was  able,  with  assistance,  to  inspect  the  works,  and 
review  the  little  force  the  same  evening.  lie  stated  to  the  people 
the  purport  of  the  intelligence  just  received  ; that  ‘ war  was  now 
inevitable;  and  the  preservation  of  their  property,  their  settlement, 
their  families,  and  their  lives,  depended  under  God,  wholly  upon 
their  own  firmness  and  good  conduct;  that  a most  important  point 
in  the  defence  of  the  place,  was  to  secure  a perfect  uniformity  of  ac- 
tion, which  should  assure  to  every  post  and  individual  the  firm  sup- 
port of  every  other.  To  this  end,  they  must  as  punctiliously  obey 
their  officers  as  if  their  whole  duty  were  centered,  as  it  probably 


■was,  in  that  one  point ; and  every  man  as  faithfully  exert  himself,  as 
if  the  whole  defence  depended  on  his  single  efforts.  A coward,  it 
was  hoped,  did  not  disgrace  their  ranks  ; and  as  the  cause  was  em- 
phatically that  of  God  and  their  country,  they  might  confidently  ex- 
pect Ins  blessing  and  success  to  attend  the  faithful  discharge  of  their 
duty.’ — Eveiy  thing  was  then  disposed  in  order  of  action,  and  the 
men  marched  to  their  posts.  They  lay  on  their  arms,  with  match- 
es lighted,  through  the  night. 

On  the  8th,  the  Agent,  by  an  effort  which  entirely  exhausted  his 
strength,  proceeded  to  examine  the  obstruction  thrown  in  the  way 
of  the  avenues  to  the  settlement ; and  perceived  to  his  extreme  mor- 
tification, that  the  west  quarter  was  still  capable  of  being  approach- 
ed by  a narrow  path-way,  without  difficulty  ; and  that  the  utmost 
exertions  of  the  workmen  had  accomplished  only  the  mounting  of 
the  revolving  nine  pounder  at  the  post;  by  which  the  path  was  en- 
filaded ; but  that  the  platform  was  still  left  entirely  exposed.  The 
eastern  quarter  was  about  equally  open  to  the  approach  of  the  en- 
emy, but  the  station  was  protected  by  a stockade,  and  a steep  ledge 
of  rocks  made  the  access  difficult. 

“ Picket  guards  of  four  men  each  were  detailed,  to  be  posted  100 
yards  in  advance  of  each  of  the  stations,  through  the  night.  No 
man  was  allowed  to  sleep  before  the  following  day,  at  sun-rise.” 

“ Sunday,  November  10th.  The  morning  was  devoted,  as  usual 
to  the  refreshment  of  the  settlers,  none  of  whom  had  slept  for  the 
24  hours  preceding.  At  1 P.  M.  all  were  remanded  to  their  fa- 
tigue and  other  duties,  till  sun-set ; when  the  order  appointed  for 
the  preceding  night  was  resumed.  The  women  and  children  at- 
tended divine  service. 

“ Intelligence  had  reached  the  agent  early  in  the  day,  that  the 
hostile  forces  had  made  a movement,  and  were  crossing  the  Mont- 
serado  river  a few  miles  above  the  settlement ; but  the  patrols  made 
no  discovery  through  the  day. — At  sun-set,  however,  the  enemy 
again  put  themselves  in  motion,  and  at  an  early  hour  of  the  night, 
had  assembled,  as  was  aftei  wards  learnt,  to  the  number  of  six  to 
nine  hundred  men,  on  the  peninsula,  where,  at  the  distance  of  less 
than  half  a mile  to  the  westward  of  the  settlement,  they  encamped 
till  near  morning.” 


30 


“ The  most  wakeful  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  settlers,  was  kept 
up  through  the  night. — But  with  a fatality  which  was  quite  of  a 
piece,  with  all  the  hindrances  that  had  impeded  the  progress  of  the 
defences  on  the  western  quarter,  the  picket-guard,  in  advance  of 
that  post,  ventured  on  a violation  of  their  orders,  by  leaving  their 
station,  at  the  first  dawn  of  day  ; at  which  it  was  their  duty  to  re- 
main till  sun-rise.  The  native  force  was  already  in  motion,  and 
followed  directly  in  the  rear  of  the  picket-guard.  The  latter  had 
just  rejoined  their  gun,  aboat  which  ten  men  were  now  assembled ; 
when  the  enemy  suddenly  presenting  a front  of  ten  yards  in  width, 
at  sixty  distant,  delivered  their  fire,  and  rushed  forward  with  their 
spears  to  seize  the  post.  Several  men  were  killed  and  disabled  by 
the  first  fire,  and  the  remainder  driven  from  their  gun  without  dis- 
charging it.  Then,  retiring  upon  the  center,  they  threw  the  reserve 
there  stationed,  into  momentary  confusion ; and  had  the  enemy  at 
this  instant,  pressed  their  advantage,  it  is  hardly  conceivable  that 
they  should  have  failed  of  entire  success.  Their  avidity  for  plunder 
was  their  defeat.  Four  houses  in  that  outskirt  of  the  settlement, 
had  fallen  into  their  hands.  Every  man  on  whose  savage  rapacity 
so  resistless  a temptation  happened  to  operate,  rushed  impetuously 
upon  the  pillage  thus  thrown  in  his  way.  The  movement  of  the 
main  body  was  disordered  and  impeded  ; and  an  opportunity  affor- 
ded the  Agent,  assisted  principally  by  the  Rev.  Lot  Cary,  to  rally 
the  broken  force  of  the  settlers.  The  two  central  guns,  with  a part 
of  their  own  men,  and  several  who  had  been  driven  from  the  wes- 
tern station,  were,  with  a little  exertion,  brought  back  into  action, 
and  formed  in  the  line  of  two  slight  buildings,  thirty  yards  in  ad- 
vance of  the  enemy. 

“ The  second  discharge  of  a brass  field-piece,  double-shotted 
with  ball  and  grape,  brought  the  whole  body  of  the  enemy  to  a stand. 
That  gun  was  well  served,  and  appeared  to  do  great  execution.” 

“The  eastern  and  southern  posts,  were,  from  their  situation,  pre- 
cluded from  rendering  any  active  assistance  on  the  occasion  ; but 
the  officers  and  men  attached  to  them,  deserve  the  highest  praise, 
of  doing  their  duty  by  maintaining  their  stations,  and  thus  protecting 
the  flank  and  rear  of  the  few  whose  lot  it  was  to  be  brought  to  action. 


31 


" A few  musketeers  with  E.  Johnson  at  their  heart,  by  passing 
round  upon  the  enemy’s  flank,  served  to  increase  the  consternation 
which  was  beginning  to  pervade  their  unwieldy  body.  In  about 
twenty  minutes  after  the  settlers  had  taken  their  stand,  the  front  of 
the  enemy  began  to  recoil.”  “ The  Americans  perceiving  their  ad- 
vantage, now  regained  possession  of  the  western  post,  and  instantly 
brought  the  long  nine  to  rake  the  whole  line  of  the  enemy.  Im- 
agination can  scarcely  figure  to  itself  a throng  of  human  beings  in 
a more  capital  state  of  exposure  to  tire  destructive  power  of  the 
machinery  of  modern  warfare !”  “ Their  fire  suddenly  terminated.  A 
savage  yell  was  raised,  which  filled  the  dismal  forest  with  a momen- 
ry  horror.  It  gradually  died  away;  and  the  whole  host  disappear- 
ed. At  8 o'clock,  the  well  known  signal  of  their  dispersion  and  re- 
turn to  their  homes,  was  sounded,  and  many  small  parties  seen  at  a 
distance,  directly  afterwards,  moving  off  in  different  directions. 
One  large  canoe,  employed  in  reconveying  a party  across  the  mouth 
of  the  Montserado,  venturing  within  range  of  the  long  gun,  was 
struck  by  a shot,  and  several  men  killed.” 

“ One  woman  who  had  imprudently  passed  the  night  in  the  house 
first  beset  by  the  enemy,  had  received  thirteen  wounds,  and  been 
thrown  aside  as  dead.  Another,  flying  from  her  house  with  her 
two  infant  children,  received  a wound  in  the  head,  from  a cutlass, 
and  was  robbed  of  both  her  babes  ; but  providentially  escaped.  A 
young  married  woman,  with  the  mother  of  five  small  children,  find- 
ing the  house  in  which  they  slept  surrounded  by  savage  enemies, 
barricadoed  the  door,  in  the  vain  hope  of  safety.  It  was  forced. 
Each  of  the  women  then  seizing  an  axe,  held  the  irresolute  barba- 
rians in  check  for  several  minutes  longer.  Having  discharged  their 
guns,  they  seemed  desirous  of  gaining  the  shelter  of  the  house  pre- 
vious to  reloading.  At  length,  with  the  aid  of  their  spears,  and  by 
means  of  a general  rush,  they  overcame  their  heroine  adversaries, 
and  instantly  stabbed  the  youngest  to  the  heart.  The  mother,  in- 
stinctively springing  for  her  suckling  babe,  which  recoiled  through 
fright,  and  was  left  behind,  rushed  through  a small  window  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  house,  and  providentially  escaped  to  the  lines, 
unhurt,  between  two  heavy  fires.  The  Agent  had  caused  a return 
to  be  made  at  9 o’clock,  which  certainly  exhibited  a melancholy 


statement  of  the  loss  sustained  by  the  little  company.  But  it  was 
animating  to  perceive  that  none — not  even  the  wounded  in  their 
severest  sufferings,  were  dispirited,  or  insensible  of  the  signal  Prov- 
idence to  which  they  owed  the  successful  issue  of  their  struggle. 

“ It  never  has  been  possible  to  ascertain  the  number  of  the  enemy 
killed  or  disabled  on  this  occasion.  The  only  entry  made  on  the 
subject  in  the  Colonial  Journal,  is  dated  November  15th  ; and  states, 

‘ The  following  circumstances  prove  the  carnage  to  have  been,  for 
the  number  engaged,  great.  A large  canoe,  from  which  the  dead 
and  wounded  could  be  seen  to  be  taken,  on  its  arriving  at  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  Montserado,  and  which  might  easily  carry  twelve  men, 
was  employed  upwards  of  two  hours  in  ferrying  them  over.  In  this 
time,  not  less  than  ten  to  twelve  trips  must  have  been  made.  It  is 
also  known,  that  many  of  the  wounded  were  conveyed  away  along 
the  south  beach,  on  mats:  and  that  the  dead  left  of  necessity  in  the 
woods,  where  many  fell,  were  carried  off  by  their  friends  every  night. 
But  two  days  ago,  twenty-seven  bodies  were  discovered  by  a party 
of  friendly  Condoes  employed  by  the  Agent  for  the  purpose.  On 
entering  the  wood,  the  offensive  effluvium  from  putrid  bodies,  is  at 
this  time  intolerable.’  ” 

This  battle  was  followed  by  a fruitless  attempt  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Ashmun  to  terminate  the  war  by  negotiation.  During  the  few 
days  which  were  thus  employed,  the  native  king6  were  mustering 
all  their  own  strength,  and  hiring  reinforcements  from  more  dis- 
tant tribes,  for  a new  attack.  Of  their  proceedings,  Mr.  A.  had 
constant  intelligence,  and  the  settlers  were  constantly  employed  in 
making  their  defences  more  complete.  On  the  evening  of  No- 
vember 28th,  information  was  received  “ that  the  attack  was  to  be 
renewed  with  double  the  number  of  warriors  employed  on  the  11th, 
at  day-light  on  the  following  morning.” 

« The  Agent  for  the  first  time  spent  the  whole  night  at  the  differ- 
ent posts ; and  had  the  satisfaction  to  perceive  every  man  attentive 
to  his  duty,  and  every  tiling  connected  with  the  defence  in  a state  of 
the  most  perfect  preparation.  The  wood  had  been  cleared  for  a 
considerable  space  about  the  town.  The  enemy  in  order  to  ap- 
proach within  musket  shot  of  the  works,  was  obliged  to  place  him- 
self unsheltered,  in  the  open  field ; and  could  advance  upon  no 


33 


point  which  was  not  exposed  to  the  cross-fire  of  two  or  more  of 
the  posts.” 

The  circumstance  that  an  English  vessel  was  lying  off  the  capo, 
induced  the  native  leaders  to  defer  the  battle  till  the  following  day. 

“ November  30th  was  spent  by  the  people  iu  the  order  of  action, 
as  it  was  known  that  the  enemy  in  the  neighborhood  weie  in  the 
actual  observation  of  all  that  passed  within  the  lines.  No  pickets 
could  be  safely  trusted  during  the  ensuing  night  without  the  enclo- 
sure; but  the  men  attached  to  the  different  stations  were  ranged 
along  the  stockade  at  five  yards  distance  from  each  other,  with  or- 
ders to  repair  to  their  guns  on  the  moment  the  alarm  was  given. 
The  Agent,  spent  with  the  fatigue  of  waking  two  successive  nights, 
had  reclined  at  thirty  minutes  past  four  upon  the  light  arms  which 
he  carried,  when  the  onset  was  made.  The  works  were  attacked 
at  the  same  moment  on  nearly  opposite  sides.  The  enemy’s  west- 
ern division  had  made  their  way  along  the  muddy  margin  of  the 
river,  under  the  protection  of  the  bank,  to  the  northwestern  angle 
of  the  palisade  ; when,  on  rising  the  bank  so  as  to  become  visible 
from  the  western  post,  they  had  opened  upon  it  a sudden  and  brisk 
lire  ; which  was  promptly  and  very  steadily  returned  by  the  iron 
gun,  supported  by  the  reserve  field  piece  from  the  center.  The 
assailants  were  repulsed  with  considerable  loss.  Ten  minutes  af- 
terwards they  renewed  the  onset,  and  forcing  their  way  higher  up 
the  bank  than  before,  contended  with  greater  obstinacy,  and  suffer- 
ed still  more  severely.  A third  attempt  was  made  to  carry  this 
post ; but  with  the  same  ill  success. 

“On  the  opposite  quarter  the  assault  had  commenced  at  the 
same  moment,  with  still  greater  vigor.  A large  body  had  conceal- 
ed themselves  under  a precipitous  ledge  of  rocks  forty  yards  dis- 
tant ; whence  they  crept  nearly  concealed  from  view,  within  the 
same  number  of  feet  of  the  station  ; when  they  suddenly  rose,  de- 
livered their  fire,  and  rushed  forward  with  the  utmost  fury.  At  this 
moment  the  two  gun  battery  was  unmasked,  and  opened  upon  them 
with  immediate  effect.  After  a very  few  discharges,  the  body  of 
the  enemy  having  thrown  themselves  dat  upon  the  earth,  disappear- 
ed behind  the  rocks.  Their  marksmen  had  taken  their  stations  be- 
hind projecting  rocks,  fallen  trees,  and  large  ant-hills,  and  still  kept 
up  a constant  and  well  directed  fire  ; under  the  cover  of  which  the 

5 


34 


main  body  rallied  and  returned  to  the  attack  not  less  than  four 
times ; and  were  as  often  repulsed  by  the  well  directed  fire  of  the 
large  guns  : which  was  purposely  reserved  for  those  occasions. 

“The  Agent  at  this  moment  perceiving  the  enemy  in  motion  to- 
wards the  right,  under  cover  of  a small  eminence  which  favored 
their  design,  proceeded  to  the  southern  post,  which  had  not  yet 
been  engaged,  and  ordered  it  to  open  upon  them  the  moment  their 
movement  brought  them  within  the  range  of  its  guns.  The  older 
was  punctually  obeyed  ; which  exposed  a large  number  of  the  as- 
sailants to  a galling  cannonade  both  in  front  and  flank,  in  a situa- 
tion where  their  own  arms  could  prove  of  no  effectual  service  to 
them.  The  assault  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  town  had  been  al- 
ready repulsed  ; and  the  signal  for  a general  retreat  immediately 
followed.” 

“ The  attack  upon  the  eastern  post,  was  prolonged  ninety  min- 
utes ; and  of  the  two,  was  much  the  most  obstinate  and  bloody.  Three 
of  the  men  serving  at  the  guns  of  that  station,  Gardiner,  Crook, 
and  Tines,  were  very  badly,  the  last  mortally,  wounded.  The 
Agent  received  three  bullets  through  his  clothes,  but  providential- 
ly escaped  unhurt.  As  the  natives  in  close  action  load  their  mus- 
kets (which  are  of  the  largest  caliber)  with  copper  and  iron  slugs, 
often  to  the  enormous  measure  of  twelve  inches,  their  fire  is  com- 
monly very  destructive.  In  this  conflict  of  scarcely  an  hour  and  a 
half,  the  quantity  of  shot  lodged  in  the  paling,  and  actually  thrown 
within  the  lines,  is  altogether  incredible  ; and  that  it  took  effect  in 
so  few  cases  can  only  be  regarded  as  the  effect  of  the  special  guardi- 
anship of  Divine  Providence.” 


B. 

A memoir  of  the  life  of  Mr.  Ashmun,  is  expected,  from  one  well 
fitted  for  the  work.  A few  facts  and  dates  will  here  be  subjoined. 

Tie  was  born  at  Champlain,  Clinton  county,  New  York,  in  April, 
1794.  From  childhood  he  exhibited  an  ardent  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge ; and  many  of  the  hours  which  he  could  redeem  from  labor 
were  spent  in  study. 


At  the  age  of  about  fifteen,  he  became  the  subject  of  decided  and 
permanent  religious  impressions.  He  had  previously  imbibed  some 
sceptical  notions,  and  had  indulged  a strong  dislike  to  the  doctrines 
and  duties  of  the  gospel.  But  that  grace  of  God  which  arrested 
Saul,  and  made  the  persecutor  an  apostle,  had  also  ordained  him 
a chosen  vessel  to  himself,  to  bear  his  name  before  the  Gentiles. 
After  a severe  inward  conflict,  he  found  peace  in  submitting  to  the 
Saviour  and  believing  the  promises  of  God. 

His  attention  was  immediately  turned  toward  the  gospel  minis- 
try. He  entered  college  at  Middlebury.  W hile  there  his  studies 
were  interrupted  by  ill  health  ; and  he  seemed  at  one  time  to  be 
sinking  under  a pulmonary  consumption.  He  graduated  at  the 
university  of  Vermont,  in  1816. 

Not  long  afterwards,  he  was  employed  as  a teacher  in  the  Lite- 
rary and  Theological  Institution,  then  recently  commenced  at  Ban- 
gor, in  Maine.  He  was  licensed  to  preach.  Afterwards  he  resi- 
ded at  the  city  of  Washington,  where  at  one  time  he  assisted  in  ed- 
iting the  “ Theological  Repertory,”  an  able  and  liberal  religious 
miscellany,  conducted  by  individuals  of  the  Episcopal  church.  The 
task  of  compiling  a memoir  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Bacon,  who  had 
died  in  Africa  while  in  the  service  of  the  Colonization  Society,  was 
entrusted  to  him  ; and  the  volume  w hich  he  published,  while  it  is  a 
valuable  memorial  of  a truly  excellent  man,  is  honorable  to  the  liter- 
ary character  and  the  Christian  feelings  of  its  author.  Becoming 
deeply  interested  in  the  cause  of  Africa,  he  issued  the  prospectus, 
and  published  a few  numbers  of  a Journal  devoted  to  that  cause. 
Public  feeling  was  not  then  prepared  to  sustain  him  in  the  under- 
taking, and  the  work  was  discontinued. 

In  1822,  the  Managers  of  the  Colonization  Society,  were  pre- 
paring to  send  out  a small  reinforcement,  and  the  Navy  Department 
was  making  arrangements  to  send  back  to  their  own  country,  a few 
native  Africans  taken  from  a slave  ship.  A vessel  was  chartered 
by  the  government  and  the  society,  and  Mr.  Ashmun  wTas  appointed 
to  take  charge  of  the  expedition,  with  authority  to  act  as  Agent  for 
both,  in  case  he  should  find  no  Agent  at  the  colony.  He  went  ex- 
pecting to  return  by  the  same  vessel.  The  sequel  the  reader  knows. 

While  he  resided  in  Africa,  his  health,  except  as  he  suffered  from 
special  exposure  or  fatigue,  was  equal  at  least,  to  what  it  had  beet) 


36 


for  some  years  previous.  In  the  month  of  January  last,  a period  of 
long  and  exhausting  effort  during  the  heavy  rains,  made  him  unfit 
for  business  ; and  on  the  26th  of  March  he  embarked  for  his  native 
country,  hardly  expecting  to  survive  the  passage.  The  vessel  after 
a long  voyage  touched  at  St.  Bartholomews ; and  as  the  continu- 
ance of  his  voyage  at  that  time,  threatened  certain  and  speedy 
death,  he  was  left  behind.  In  the  course  of  a few  weeks,  the  vio- 
lence of  his  disease  seemed  abating ; and  he  ventured  to  embark 
on  board  a vessel  bound  for  New  Haven,  where  he  arrived  on  the 
10th  of  August.  From  that  time  his  descent  to  the  grave  was 
rapid.  The  best  medical  skill  was  called  to  his  assistance,  but  in 
vain.  His  disease  had  become  inveterate. 

The  result  he  anticipated  with  great  composure.  The  first  time 
that  I saw  him  he  told  me,  “ I have  come  here  to  die.  It  is  hard  to 
be  broken  down  by  the  slow  progress  of  disease.  I wish  to  be  sub- 
missive. My  sins,  my  sins  ; they  seem  to  shut  me  out  from  that 
comfort  which  I wish  to  enjoy.”  A day  or  two  afterwards,  advert- 
ing to  the  same  subject,  he  said,  “ I have  been  praying  for  light, 
and  a little  light  has  come,  cheering  and  refreshing  beyond  expres- 
sion.” From  that  time,  though  I saw  him  daily,  and  though  he 
often  spoke  of  dying,  1 never  knew  him  to  intimate  the  least  solici- 
tude. Requesting  the  prayers  of  the  congregation  on  the  sabbath, 
he  said,  “ I have  a desire  to  recover,  but  I do  not  wisli  that  to  be 
the  burthen  of  the  prayer.  Let  it  be  that  I may  acquiesce  entirely 
in  the  will  of  God,  and  may  have  communion  with  God.  I wish  the 
colony  to  be  remembered.”  Here  he  burst  into  tears  like  a child. 
“ Excuse  my  weakness,”  said  he,  “ there  are  many  good  people 
there,  and  they  are  so  dear  that  when  I think  of  seeing  them  no 
more,  my  feelings  are  too  strong.”  The  kindness,  patience,  and 
piety  of  his  disposition  made  a deep  impression  on  all  his  attend- 
ants ; and  when  lie  died,  those  who  had  so  lately  been  strangers 
to  him,  wept  as  if  he  had  been  their  early  friend. 

He  died,  falling  asleep  as  it  were  in  a moment,  reason,  memory, 
speech,  and  every  faculty  holding  out  to  the  last,  on  Monday,  Au- 
gust 25th,  at  12  in  the  evening. 


1 


(Q35  The  African  Repository  and  Colonial  Jour- 
nal, a periodical  work,  published  monthly  at  Wash-  J 
ington,  by  order  of  the  Managers  of  the  American  Col-  j 
onization  Society  5 price  two  dollars  per  annum,  paya- 
ble in  advance.  Subscriptions  received  by 

HEZEKIAH  If  OWE. 

New  Haven , Sept  8,  1828. 


